


The Wrong Spartan

by thedevilchicken



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Antagonism, Getting Together, Lack of Communication, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Pining, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Stentor has opinions about Alexios' relationship with Thaletas. Alexios is somewhat confused by this.
Relationships: Alexios/Stentor (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73
Collections: pine4pine 2020





	The Wrong Spartan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).



> This takes place in an AU where the Mykonos missions happen after the Cult has already been defeated and Stentor et al are lieutenants on the Adrestia. It's actually possible to do this in the game but it doesn't actually change any of the interactions - hence this fic!

Alexios is...confused. 

That's the best word for it, he thinks, because he's not sure what other words he'd use, given what happened back on Mykonos and the fact that Stentor is currently ignoring him as a result of it. And that's usually fine because frankly sometimes Stentor ignoring him is better than Stentor _not_ ignoring him, and the crew on the Adrestia understands that fact, so him getting his orders via Barnabas instead of directly from Alexios somehow doesn't undermine his authority as captain. Possibly because Barnabas has halfway convinced them they're the next best thing to Argonauts, or perhaps because they make so much drachmae they could swim in it like the Aegean. They're successful under Alexios, and it's not like he keeps them chained to the oars. They're all free to leave, but mostly they choose not to. 

Still, Alexios is confused. This morning, they landed on Naxos, and Stentor is ignoring him. Now it's dark and Alexios' mater is still busy showing Kassandra all the sights Alexios has already seen, and his pater is deep in conversation with Barnabas and Herodotos over a cup of wine or two, and Alexios is sitting on the wall on the terrace upstairs in the house where his mater used to live while she still thought he was dead. He's swinging his legs like the drop wouldn't kill most men if they were unlucky enough to fall. Most _other_ men, at least. He's never met a drop that could kill him, though he supposes he's not been in a hurry to put it to the test. And, as his calves and heels bounce against the brickwork like he's trying to chip his name into it, he thinks about Mykonos. 

The party was nineteen nights ago. It was a warm night and he remembers being oddly grateful for that because he didn't have to find a cloak before he left the town, feeling quite a lot like Thaletas had just jabbed a knife into his chest, underneath his ribs, and twisted it. Maybe he hadn't expected a grand romance but he hadn't expected what had happened, either. He hadn't expected to fall for a Spartan general, or for that general to tell him he chose Sparta only to choose Mykonos and Kyra instead before the night was out. So he'd left the party, left Barnabas with Iola, and Kassandra getting mad at Eppie's enthusiasm for local artefacts, and his mater and pater sharing a cup of wine in not-quite-stony silence, and he'd gone up to the ruins where he'd spent a long afternoon with Thaletas not so long ago. He sat where Thaletas had sat while Alexios had knelt on the ground to suck his cock. And, knees to elbows, leaning, he put his head into his hands. 

He knows he's never been particularly lucky in love. Sex, sure, he's had plenty of sex, but love's another matter completely. He's never really wanted it, or had time for it, or been good at handling it when it struck anyway, but he was at least half sure this time it wasn't his fault. The Cult was done and his family was safe and he could have had the Adrestia set sail for Lakonia the very next day if Thaletas had only said the word. He'd said _no_ instead, though Alexios sailed with two Spartan generals and Leonidas' daughter, with King Archidamos' blessing. He'd thought Thaletas would be happy to go with him. He'd thought he'd understood him, but obviously he'd made a mistake. Perhaps he'd only hoped he'd known him and he really never had at all.

And then, suddenly, he wasn't alone. He heard sandals scuffing dirt and he looked up, half hoping it might be Thaletas coming to apologise, and the worst part aside from knowing that it wasn't him was knowing he would have forgiven him if it had been. If they'd fought, it would have only been like it had been the first time, just a prelude to fucking in a place that really wasn't built for comfort. But it wasn't him. It was another man in Spartan colours, and as different from Thaletas as Alexios was himself. 

He sighed. "I came here to be alone, Stentor," he said, and he turned away because, honestly, Stentor was the very last person in the world who could have helped his mood. He reminded him of all the things Thaletas wasn't: loyal, for one. A pain in the ass who'd tried to kill him more than once for another, though that had stopped completely once their pater had mysteriously returned from his mysterious disappearance. Reliable. Honest. Direct. But then Stentor came closer and Alexios could see the blood on his face and the blood on his hands in the moonlight. He stood quickly. He started to go closer, but Stentor held up one hand and so he stopped. 

"You know, you look terrible," Alexios said. 

"Thank you," Stentor replied. He tried to raise his eyebrows sarcastically but something about the motion must have hurt because he ended up wincing instead. 

"You're bleeding." 

"You're observant."

"You're an ass."

"You're insufferable."

"Did you come all the way up here to trade insults or is there another reason you're here?"

Stentor wiped his bloody face with one bloody hand then shook some of the blood off onto the dirt. It didn't really work - all it did was smudge his mouth and chin and one cheek, dark like tar and slick like paint. 

"Why are _you_ here?" Stentor asked. 

"To be alone." He raised his eyebrows pointedly in the way that Stentor hadn't managed. "It's not working out so well." 

"Why alone?"

"Don't you ever want to spend time by yourself?"

He watched Stentor clench his bloodied fists, like the answer was yes but he didn't particularly want to agree with him, even about that. Like agreeing with him would mean some terrible blemish on his reputation. Ordinarily, Alexios wouldn't have really minded that; he understood that Sparta didn't see him as much of a man at all, and he didn't need Stentor's approval to tell him that he was. Honestly, sometimes, while they were at sea, needling Stentor into a fight or an argument or some kind of silent test of wills was the most fun he had for days. Certainly better than swimming with sharks.

"Look, is there a reason you're here, Stentor?" Alexios asked again. 

"Why didn't you hit him?" Stentor asked, like maybe that answered the question even though it absolutely didn't, or else if it did then Alexios couldn't see how. 

"Why didn't I hit who?"

"The fucking deserter who chose romance over his country."

 _Oh_ , he thought. _Thaletas_. He shrugged. He sat back down again. Of course it was Thaletas. Even when his asshole not-exactly-brother interrupted his self-pitying solitude, of course it was about Thaletas, like there was nowhere he could go to get away. 

"Everyone deserves a choice, Stentor," he said, and gestured at the path toward the town, where Thaletas was probably dancing with Kyra as they spoke. "Even fucking deserters."

"He doesn't deserve a choice if he's going to make the wrong one."

"It's not much of a choice if you don't get to fuck up every now and then."

"And he dishonoured you." 

Alexios smiled wryly. "If you mean what I think you mean," he replied, with a quirk of his brows, "he's not exactly the first man to do that." 

Stentor frowned. His cheeks seemed slightly pink, but that could have just been a trick of the light and Alexios wouldn't have liked to bet on it either way.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Stentor asked. 

"What, having sex with men?"

"That people know."

"Stentor, are you concerned for my heart, my body, or your reputation?"

Stentor scowled and he blushed furiously. This time, it definitely wasn't just a trick of the light; that much Alexios would've bet on. 

"For your honour!" Stentor said. "Spartan men don't do that."

"You might not have noticed, but I'm not a very Spartan man."

Stentor turned away and gave a sudden loud, frustrated shout that actually managed to make Alexios flinch. And when Stentor turned back to him again, and when he came closer, Alexios could see the blood on his skin more clearly. His nose wasn't broken but it had been bleeding at some point not very long ago. He had a bruise at one cheekbone and a slight split in his bottom lip, right in the centre because even getting hurt he'd had to do perfectly. You wouldn't need an intellect even half of Sokrates' to see how hard Stentor tries to be a good little soldier. It wasn't like Alexios begrudged him that, though - he thinks maybe everyone has a talent, and Stentor's just happens to be Being Spartan. 

Stentor came closer and Alexios assumed the look on his face like he wanted to hit him meant, strangely enough, that he was going to hit him. He was prepared for it, even; he stood himself back up and steadied himself and balanced himself and he was ready for Stentor to punch him in the face with one of his already bloody hands. He was even going to let him do it, because it wasn't like he wouldn't heal quickly and Stentor looked like he had something he needed to get out of his system. Maybe Alexios did, too, in a way, and letting Stentor hit him might have helped. It would have been a familiar feeling, at least. 

Except Stentor didn't hit him. Stentor _kissed_ him. Stentor pressed his mouth to his, roughly, tasting like his own recently spilled blood, sucking at his bottom lip as he took a handful of Alexios' hair and pulled. It hurt. Alexios cursed under his breath. He pushed him back, but not exactly sharply. Any other time, any other man, he wouldn't have objected at all. 

"Stentor..." he said, voice strained, confused, maybe even warning. But Stentor didn't reply. He just surged forward and kissed him again, and this time Alexios couldn't quite remember his objections. Looking back, he's not sure they were exactly numerous to begin with. It almost felt like just another kind of argument.

Stentor wasn't wearing his armour. Somehow, he didn't seem smaller without it - he was solid and muscular and the way his tunic fit, just two pieces of red fabric pinned together at the shoulders and tied with a cord at his waist, showed off his thighs and flanks and the fact that he was naked underneath. Alexios wrapped Stentor's braid around the palm of one hand, tight up to the nape of his neck, and raked his nails over the small of Stentor's back, over the familiar red tunic. Stentor made an angry sound down in his throat and pushed him, followed him when he staggered because Alexios' hand still had his hair wrapped tight around it, and shoved him up against the nearest pillar. Alexios' head bounced off it sharply, but that didn't seem to matter to his cock when Stentor pushed one thigh against him and made it thicken quickly. 

"Stentor, what are you doing?" Alexios asked, as Stentor stepped back and untied the cord around his waist. He didn't reply - he just pulled the tunic off over his head and dropped it to the ground and stood there, naked, hard, angry, his face flushed and his cock flushed, too, and Alexios leaned there and looked at him. There were superficial similarities between Stentor and Thaletas, like the lack of a beard, and their braids, and that they stood more or less the same height. Stentor, though, was more muscular. Stentor had more scars, and his cock was thicker, longer, his expression hot and angry where Thaletas had been pleased and calm and easy. Stentor wasn't easy, but he also wasn't hesitant. Stentor looked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and what he wanted in that moment was Alexios, much to his surprise. 

It was an odd realisation, that Stentor wanted this at all, and wanted it _now_ , with his split lip and his bloody hands. But frankly Alexios didn't give the situation too much thought - he tossed his spear to the ground, and he pulled his sword belt from his waist, and he tugged his tunic off over his head, to see where Stentor's limit was. He stripped off the folded linen loincloth underneath and he stood there in the moonlight, one hand on his hip and the other wrapped around his cock. 

"Is this what you want?" Alexios said, maybe sounding irritated, frustrated, not sure where this was going except that it was obvious where it was going. Then he spread his arms wide and started to turn an almost mocking, exhibitionist circle, except then Stentor chose the moment that his back was turned to lunge. He took him down into the dirt and knocked the wind right out of him and Alexios could have knocked him out cold as easily as look at him, but he didn't. He barely even struggled, and Stentor probably knew that. All Alexios did was turn onto his back and lie there mutely on the dusty ground as Stentor pushed up and straddled his thighs. 

He wasn't totally sure why Stentor was doing this. All they'd done since they'd met was argue, though he guessed he didn't really have enough experience in the sibling department, or the Spartan department, to know if the way they argued was normal or not - sometimes, frankly, it'd felt like antagonistic flirting, but then Stentor would just stop talking to him for the next three days. Stentor had never questioned his authority, or at least not in front of the crew. They bickered about petty little things, like the proper way to tie a knot or whether a blade could be made _too_ sharp for use or if wine was better with or without water, until Alexios had to walk away or else shove him head first into the Aegean so the creatures in the sea could finish him off. And when they sparred, whenever they were on dry land and still talking to each other, Stentor always fought like he meant to kill him, holding nothing back - Alexios maybe enjoyed the challenge of that, but he was pretty sure it was all about how much Stentor didn't like him. 

Stentor didn't like him, that much had been absolutely clear since after Megaris, and definitely since the kings had ordered Stentor along on their little family cruise - maybe Alexios had always found him attractive in an uptight kind of way but he'd long since dismissed the thought of that attraction going anywhere. All signs had said Stentor didn't like him but there he was, naked, straddling Alexios' thighs. He scowled as he spat into his hand then stroked Alexios' cock, slowly, but his grip was tight. Alexios hissed in a breath and Stentor bared his teeth as he shuffled forward; he let the head of Alexios' cock drag against the stretch of skin behind his balls as he moved, then pressed it up between his cheeks, up against his hole. 

"Stentor..." Alexios said, his voice tight, already at least half the way to breathless, but Stentor didn't reply. He just looked at Alexios for a moment, his gaze hard and his expression serious, before he glanced away again. And then, slowly but surely, slowly but inexorably, he sank down onto the length of Alexios' cock. Somehow, he even looked angry about that.

It was over quickly. They had nothing like enough lubrication and they were both too damned riled up for anything else, so it didn't last. Alexios spread his arms out wide on the dusty ground, pretty sure he had a rock under one buttock and his hair would need a really thorough wash, and he watched as Stentor started to ride him. He pressed his heels to the ground and he pushed up, he pushed into him, met Stentor's thrust on the way down and made him curse under his breath in a way that likely wasn't very Spartan as he squeezed his own thighs. And when Stentor came, he bared his teeth and tensed and arched his back and pushed down hard, his muscles taut and shifting with his breath, and, fuck, had hadn't even touched himself. Maybe that was what finished Alexios off, or maybe it was just the fact that Stentor came so hard he almost hit his chin with his ridiculous ejaculation and tensed so hard around him that it was right on the edge of painful. But painful was good. Somehow, painful had always been good where Stentor was concerned.

"Stentor, what the hell was that about?" Alexios asked, as he lay there, after, as they were both still trying to catch their breath. Practically Stentor's entire body moved with every breath he took, like he might hyperventilate and pass out right on top of him if he weren't careful, but then he took one last deep breath and pushed himself up to his feet. Alexios' cock slipped from inside him, quickly, still half-hard, and he watched him start to dress with his back turned. 

He should've asked again. He should've pushed. But he just sat himself up in the dirt and leaned against the nearest pillar, still naked except for his sandals, while Stentor put his clothes back on. He should've asked, but he watched Stentor walk away. And now, there's been nineteen days of perfect silence. Nineteen days of furtive glances, and grimaces, and no words at all. He's had to hear from the crew that the fight Stentor had had was with Thaletas; he hasn't even told him that.

When he hears steps on the terrace behind him, he turns to look over his shoulder. When Stentor sees him, he stops, he frowns, and then he turns to walk away again. 

"You can't keep ignoring me," Alexios says, though he's not completely sure that's true, and Stentor turns back to him with a look on his face that says, _do you want to bet on that?_ But what he says is, "I'm not ignoring you. I'm just not speaking to you."

"Then you're doing a great job of acting like it." 

Stentor puts his hands on his hips. He shrugs. "You can think what you like," he says, and Alexios groans out loud. 

"That's just it," he says. "I don't know what to think!" He turns and drags himself up onto his feet, not that he's ruling out a frustrated jump from the roof. "Look, Stentor, if you hate me, that's fine, but--"

Stentor scoffs. Alexios frowns. And when he studies Stentor's face, the wry not-smile, the narrowed eyes, the tension, it dawns on him like a knee to the gut. He finally thinks he might understand. He's been convinced that Stentor fought Thaletas for the fact that he'd deserted from the Spartan army; he's not fool enough to think that didn't play a part but maybe it really was only _partly_ that. 

"You don't actually hate me, do you," he says, and Stentor's smile twists from wry straight into bitter. The way he turns away just seems to confirm it and Alexios...well, maybe he's surprised, but it's not the bad kind of surprise, like a shark in a wreck or another fucking Cultist. It's a surprise like a chest full of gold or a mild night under the stars when he expects pouring rain. So he goes to him, standing there by the table on the rooftop terrace. He sets his hands at Stentor's hips and when he flinches, he doesn't step away; Stentor stays where he is, too, though Alexios half expects him to elbow him in the jaw. It wouldn't be the first time, though he realises that maybe, just maybe, that was almost flirting. Maybe, just maybe, Stentor's silences have just been his way of telling himself it's a bad idea.

Then Alexios turns him. He kisses him. Stentor, for once, doesn't fight. Thaletas would say you never really know a man until you fight him, but the fact is he's fought Stentor more than once. He knows him. He realises, with Stentor's fingers in his hair and his teeth at his lip, that he knows him as well as he knows anyone living in the world. He knows him better than he knew Thaletas, at least.

"Maybe next time fight _me_ instead of the guy who dumped me," Alexios says when they pull apart again. Stentor gives him a derisive snort, but he doesn't bother arguing. That might be a start.

And sure, so it's too soon to tell. Sure, so it won't be easy. But Alexios maybe wonders if he had the wrong Spartan all along.


End file.
